


Sharpe Reflects On His Life

by DorsetGirl



Series: Sharpe - Weekly Clip Transcripts [6]
Category: Sharpe (TV), Sharpe - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Movie: Sharpe's Peril
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28339500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DorsetGirl/pseuds/DorsetGirl
Summary: Sharpe has killed many men.
Relationships: Patrick Harper & Richard Sharpe
Series: Sharpe - Weekly Clip Transcripts [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2172534





	Sharpe Reflects On His Life

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7DX9-hOegqw) from Sharpe's Peril. All dialogue is from the show, I’m just borrowing it to build my story around.

~ ~ ~

Sharpe knew Marie-Angelique was still in shock from what she’d done earlier, and he tried clumsily, with inadequate words, to comfort her and express his gratitude.

She looked sideways at him and asked, 

“Have you killed many men?”

He knew his silence answered her better than any words he could have found. 

“Did they deserve it?”

This one he had thought about many times over the years and the answer was straightforward.

"Some. Most were just poor soldiers who happened to wear a different uniform from me."

He stared at the fire as she stabbed straight into his soul with her final question.

“But in a just cause?”

He looked at her briefly before staring back at the fire, searching for the right words. 

As he hesitantly explained how he’d come to feel about the way he’d spent his life, he realised he’d called her “Miss”. He’d been addressing her as Ma’am from the beginning, in recognition - reluctant at first - of her high social status, and to preserve an icy distance between them. He’d wanted no flirtation with a pert blonde affianced to someone else, and besides, his heart was empty, forever eaten up and torn away.

He hadn’t meant to draw attention to her newly unattached status - as she’d shot her own fiancé dead to save Sharpe it ill-behoved him to remark on that - rather that the question made him realise that though she had grown up somewhat along this strange journey through India, she was nonetheless still young, naïve and uninformed of the ways of the world.

As she rested her head on his arm he stiffened and made to pull away, but it seemed she merely wished to offer him apology for asking. She put her hand on his arm and he leaned briefly towards her in acceptance of the comfort.

He looked into the flames, her head still on his arm, and reflected on the way he’d spent his life. All those years fighting, following the colours, marching and killing, over and over till he no longer knew where the soldier ended and the man began. Going where Wellington told him to all over Europe and now doing it again the length of India, all for the dubious honour of approval from the great man.

He thought of the friends he’d lost, the lousy pay, the scars and lingering pains all over his body. The lonely years wandering in limbo between the officers’ mess and the men’s campfires, both places welcoming him with polite words and just as politely waiting for him to leave. Had any of it been worth it? 

Perhaps it was him that was naïve, not Marie-Angelique. 

True, he’d gained rank undreamt of for an orphan bastard from the gutter. 

He’d gained fame, of a sort. It wasn’t every sergeant who got the opportunity to save Wellington’s life; it wasn’t every Lieutenant who took an Eagle and it wasn’t every Captain from the ranks got his Majority from Prinny himself. He’d gained riches, three times over, and been cheated of them every time.

He’d gained, and lost, Teresa, Jane, Lucille. He’d gained the trust of his Chosen Men, put his life in their hands more than once, and over the years had lost them all in one way or another. 

He’d gained self-respect though, he thought. He’d gained confidence, a place in the world that no-one could take from him, and the friendship of Patrick Harper.

And all his life till this mission he’d thought he was dedicating his life to fighting for a better world, a world free of tyrants. A world where a man from the gutter could live free and proud as a man born to high station. 

But the long-dead faces looking out of the flames reminded him that the poor were still poor and the rich were still rich, and that he’d spent his life misunderstanding who the tyrants really were.

~ ~ ~


End file.
